


Mate/Date

by Scarlett_Bard



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gryles, M/M, Stymshaw - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1264588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Bard/pseuds/Scarlett_Bard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roses are red,<br/>Violets are blue.<br/>Harry likes Nick<br/>and Nick likes Harry too.</p><p>(A month late, I know. But is there ever a bad time for 100% pure, unadulterated cheesy fluff?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mate/Date

“Harry, don’t be daft” Nick laughs lightly down the phone.  
“I’m not being daft!” Harry protests.  
“You’re honestly offering to spend the night with me rather than picking up some pretty young thing in a club somewhere?”  
“Yes. I’m not having you be alone on Valentine’s Day, Grim. You should have somebody spoil you tonight of all nights”. Nick’s grateful they’re having this conversation over the phone; he doesn’t think he could handle Harry seeing the endeared grin spreading across his face right now.  
“What’s the plan then?” Nick asks, knowing Harry will take that as outright agreement without question.  
“Up to you, can go out if you want. Or we can stay in, get some beers and a film”  
“How is that any different to what we normally do, Haz?”  
“I’ll cook for you. Maybe even light some candles if you’re really lucky”. Harry’s voice has a fruity lilt to it that makes Nick laugh; but there’s no denying that the boy’s charm is working its magic even down the phone.  
“Well then. How could I possibly say no to an offer like that?” Nick replies in a mocking attempt at a swoon. “What time are you planning to come over and take control of my kitchen?”  
“It’s not my fault the builders are still working on my place!” Harry rebukes. “But I’ll say about seven”  
“Okay, seven it is” Nick can feel a grin breaking out across his face and prays Harry can’t hear it in his voice “you better dress nice, mind. I can’t stand a date with poor fashion sense”.

 

Puppy’s yapping in the hall signals Harry’s arrival before he can even consider knocking on the door. By the time he has Nick’s already made his way through from his bedroom and opened it, leaving Harry looking slightly startled before he enters.  
“Christ, Harry, how many courses are you cooking?” Nick asks incredulously; eyes on the straining carrier bags in Harry’s hands as he heads for the kitchen.  
“Just a main and dessert. Figured it’s only right to make it all from scratch.” Harry lets out a sigh of relief as he dumps the bags onto the worktop. He fumbles around in one for a while, Nick growing slightly confused as he watches Harry attempt to retrieve something.  
“These are for you,” he says finally “Happy Valentine’s Day!”. Flowers. Harry’s bought Nick flowers! Nick’s not sure exactly how to react; just says thankyou and takes them from him. A dozen red roses; so cheesy and traditional and so _Harry_. They are gorgeous though, deep crimson petals unfurled gracefully against rich green leaves. Nick feels guilty about not owning a vase to put them in and settles on finding a tall glass instead as Harry begins pulling ingredients out of carrier bags and utensils from the cupboards.  
“You want a hand, mate?” Nick asks feeling somewhat useless at watching Harry dice onions by himself.  
“No, it’s fine. I’m here to treat _you_ tonight, remember?”. Harry shoots Nick a smile over his shoulder. His eyes are watering, he’d never been very good with onions, and he wipes them on the sleeve of his heart print shirt. _Of course Harry would wear hearts on Valentine’s Day_ , Nick thinks to himself. He likes it though; can’t think of anybody else who could do it without Nick teasing them endlessly for it.  
“You okay?” Harry asks, startling Nick out of his thoughts.  
“Hm? Fine. Just thinking that whatever you’re cooking smells amazing”. Harry’s face lights up at Nick’s compliment. It might not be what Nick was thinking beforehand but now he’s zoned back to Earth it is. Moving from where he’d perched on the table he makes his way over to examine the bubbling pot on the hob; a rich, reddish-brown sauce sending tantalising aromas up to Nick’s nose.  
“Bolognese” Harry tells him, in answer to the questioning crease between Nick’s eyebrows. “I brought wine as well. Do you fancy a glass while this is simmering?”. Nick nods, watching as Harry opens the cupboard on his left to retrieve two glasses; standing on his tip-toes like always to reach the uppermost shelf.

 

Almost a full bottle of wine has gone by the time Harry and Nick have finished their bolognese; Nick sitting bloated but content as Harry tackles the final slice of garlic bread.  
“I don’t think I’m ever going to move again” Nick sighs “I knew I should’ve skipped lunch”.  
“I hope you’ve got room for Eton Mess” Harry replies, sounding equally as heavy as Nick feels.  
“Of course” Nick assures him, though when Harry gets up and moves to the worktop Nick takes the opportunity to open the button on his black skinny jeans. He’s not feeling particularly skinny at all at the moment but it seems mean to decline dessert when Harry’s making the effort. Nick’s still half-expecting Harry to hurriedly excuse himself for a date with whatever model he’s been linked to this week. Nick’s glad he’s here though; he might even feel a bit dejected if Harry left now.  
“Right, dig in!” Harry encourages as he places the bowls on the table. Nick can’t stop himself from laughing aloud when he sees that Harry’s arranged the carefully sliced strawberries into a love heart on top of the meringue.  
“You really are something else, Styles” Nick chuckles.  
“Do you like it? I even managed to keep all of my fingers intact”  
“Now that _is_ impressive for you” Nick retorts, giving Harry a smirk when he gasps in protest. “Seriously though,” he adds “this could well be the best Valentine’s I’ve had. I’d rather have you here than be drinking a whole bottle of wine on my own”. Nick feels a warmth spread over him at the way Harry half laughs, half smiles at that; a fuzzy kind of warmth that feels surprisingly pleasant. He basks in it quietly while the pair eat dessert, not sure what exactly it is but definitely preferring it to the drunken, lonely bitterness of the last few February fourteenths that he’s had.

 

Nick decides that he’s definitely eaten far too much after finishing his mountain of meringue but insists on getting up from the table to help clean up. Harry’s insistent that Nick doesn’t have to though and refuses to move when Nick tries to take Harry’s place in front of the sink for washing-up duties.  
“Fine, you asked for it Styles”. That’s all the warning Harry gets before he feels Nick’s strong hands dig into his waist and begin tickling him until he’s squirming in every direction possible.  
“Nick, _stop_!” Harry whines pleadingly though the small laugh in his voice suggests he doesn't mind all that much.  
“Not ‘til you do as you’re told” Nick tells him. Wheezing, Harry finally wriggles free and moves away from the sink long enough for Nick to sidle into his place with a triumphant smirk on his face.  
“That’s not fair” Harry scolds with a sulking pout on his face that’s both amusing and just a little adorable all at once.  
“Neither is you having to clean up when you cooked” Nick points out.  
“But I was meant to be spoiling you tonight”  
“You’ve done more than enough!”  
“Mm” Harry hums sounding unconvinced.  
“Why’s it matter so much to you anyway, Haz?” Nick enquires.  
“You deserve to have somebody that looks after you” Harry shrugs, attempting to make it sound like a throwaway comment; “you’re my mate and I think you deserve to have somebody who makes you happy”. Nick replies with a carbon-copy shrug, feeling something like a lump in his throat and telling himself it’s obviously meringue.  
“That’d be nice I guess, but I’m fine mate; really. There’s not a lot somebody else could do for me that I can’t do myself is there?”. There’s no answer at first, just silence, and Nick has to turn his head to make sure Harry hasn’t disappeared in a puff of smoke. He’s definitely still stood there but he doesn’t look like the Harry who Nick knows. His usual smile has been replaced by a deep set frown that makes him look pained somehow by something more than an over-full stomach.  
“Harry, you okay?”. There’s an unintelligible, muttered response and Nick has to ask again because he’s not sure he heard right the first time.  
“They could love you” Harry’s voice is clearer this time as he raises his green eyes to meet Nick’s brown ones. “ _I_ could love you, Nick, if you let me”. Nick stands frozen and unsure of how to respond. That’s...not the reply he’d expected. Not at all. He’s so thrown that it takes him a while to realise he’s stood with his hands still wrist-deep in the dishwater. He removes them slowly and wipes them on a chequered teatowel not really paying attention to whether he’s drying them successfully or not.  
“Harry, you’re smart. You should know it’s not that easy” Nick sighs somewhat wearily.  
“It could be. It can be”. Harry insists. Nick can’t help but give a tiny smile. If only Harry knew that Nick’s had this debate with himself a thousand times in his own head. But then, this is Harry. Harry who’d run through fire for something if he wanted it badly enough. _Could that really be Nick though_?  
“How?” Nick asks, uncertain but curious to know.

 

Harry steps closer, closing the gap between himself and Nick, so close that Nick can feel Harry’s weight pressing against him. He feels dizzy and lightheaded, tries to tell himself it’s a combination of too much wine and the fumes from Harry’s aftershave and not the lack of space between the two of them. Not that it’s entirely new or anything but it’s different. Curled up drunk in the same bed is a lot easier- Nick thinks- a lot more subtle in some ways. Nick can cope with knowing Harry’s there, huddled up somewhere near Nick under a duvet, but right now he’s pressed up against him so close and so obviously present. It doesn’t help that Harry’s still got his eyes fixed on Nick either. They’re big and bright and a little glassy (half a bottle of wine will do that, Nick supposes) but they’re easily focussed on Nick making him feel like he’s under scrutiny in the best possible way. It’s the same kind of look Harry got when he and Nick visited an art gallery- captivated and intense- and for a brief moment Nick gets a rush of butterflies in his stomach thinking that maybe Harry sees him like a gilt-framed artwork.  
“Christ, Haz, stop looking at me like that. My face isn’t a bloody installation at the National Gallery” Nick attempts a laugh but his throat’s oddly dry. It was a struggle getting those words out never mind anything else.  
“Nah, I wouldn’t want to kiss a painting. Might taste a bit oily” Harry replies. Nick doesn’t laugh because he’s positive he can’t have heard that first bit right. Or maybe Harry’s joking. Except that he’s leaning in, close enough now that Nick can feel his eyelashes fluttering each time he blinks. Nick’s eyes close too, just as Harry’s lips catch the corner of his mouth. It’s only a second and it’s barely the ghost of a kiss but it sends an ecstatic shudder through Nick, his skin on fire when Harry’s nose nudges against his own.  
“Haz...” Nick whispers breathily. God knows what else he planned to say but it doesn’t seem to matter, Harry’s lips are on Nick’s before he can consider finishing his sentence. Slow and soft at first, nearly as light as the first time, but Harry’s lips are undeniably pressed to Nick’s. 

 

It feels good. More than good. It feels like someone’s flicked a switch and woken up nerve endings Nick didn’t even know he had. His heart is threatening to explode out of his chest and his blood’s like boiling lava as it pumps through his veins and rushes to the surface at his cheeks. He’s hyper aware of Harry as well, of the sweet warmth of his mouth and every miniscule ridge on his lips. His tongue feels like electric as it laps against Nick’s bottom lip. It’s tentative, maybe a little nervous, because Harry’s been waiting an eternity for this but he won’t risk rushing it, won’t risk forcing it too far too quickly. He lets his lips linger a while before finally pulling back. It’s sooner than he’d want- he doesn’t really ever want to stop- but better to stop by choice than have Nick pull away. It’s only now he’s broken the kiss that the weight of what he’s just done finally hits Harry. His cheeks are aflame as he stands in front of Nick waiting for some kind of response.  
“Say something” he encourages praying his voice doesn’t sound too desperate.  
“That was uhm...unexpected” Nick knows it’s a poor excuse of a response but his head’s still too clouded to construct anything more eloquent.  
“Oh” Harry’s face falls, his shoulders slumping drastically as he casts his eyes to the floor.  
“It wasn’t bad!” Nick attempts to convince him, though Harry still looks doubtful. “Honestly, I promise! Caught me off guard but yeah. It was nice though”.  
“Cheers, mate” is all Harry can manage. In all honesty he doesn’t know what he expected. Something _more_. It had felt so much more than just ‘nice’ for him.  
“I dunno if a ‘mate’ does that kind of thing to be honest, Harry”. Nick’s voice sounds as uncertain as Harry feels and only serves to make the youngster feel even more embarrassed by what he’s done. He says nothing, just stands in front of Nick with his bottom lip clasped firmly between his teeth. He looks like a schoolboy who knows he’s in trouble. _Fuck_ , he thinks he’s in trouble with Nick of all people! Harry looks on the verge of crying (or running, given how he’s twitching his leg) because he thinks he’s in shit with Nick. Nick’s not entirely sure how to feel about that. All he knows is he wants to make it right.

 

Nick steps towards Harry closing the space he’d put between them. Harry doesn’t lift his head, keeps his eyes fixed on the floor even when Nick brushes his fingers across the back of his hand, and Nick takes it upon himself to tilt Harry’s head up with a hand under his chin. Nick wonders if it’s twisted to find Harry’s soft doe eyes disarmingly beautiful given that he still looks so unsure of himself. He strokes softly over the downy hair attempting to break out over Harry’s sculpted jaw; a sweet ache in his chest when Harry nuzzles into the palm of Nick’s hand.  
“You’ll make your lips raw chewing them like that, love” Nick chides, though it’s more a tension breaker than a scolding.  
“Sorry” Harry mutters.  
“Just don’t really fancy you with cracked lips is all” he runs a thumb over Harry’s bottom lip. It’s swollen from his anxious chewing but otherwise undamaged. Still plump, pink and softer than silk.  
“That mean you fancy me otherwise?” Harry interrogates, his flirtatious tone failing to hide the nervous laughter that accompanies it. Nick smiles softly, barely detectable except for the way his eyes seem to twinkle brighter than before. Using the hand on Harry’s face as leverage Nick pulls him into a kiss that’s still soft but somehow more certain than before. Nick’s spare hand eventually comes up to cup the other side of Harry’s face as well. To Harry it all seems to fit somehow. Nick’s tongue making itself at home against Harry’s own, the scratch of Nick’s stubble against his skin. Harry’s hands fumble for Nick’s waist and grip onto him tightly through his denim shirt in a desperate attempt to get Nick closer (always closer) and keep him there for as long as possible. Plus Harry’s scared he might float away with how light he feels if he lets go and he has no plans of being pulled away from this any time soon.

 

“So...that’s a yes?” Harry questions after. Nick’s eyes bore into Harry like he’s seeing him for the first time. All of his affectionate displays, the glances Nick has caught before Harry swiftly turns away, the fact Harry comes to Nick before anyone else when he gets home from travelling. And now he’s stood in front of Nick looking so openly hopeful that Nick’s heart might just splinter at the sight of it.  
“Yeah I guess it is. Christ, fancy me falling for the most wanted popstar in Britain, eh?” Nick laughs in disbelief. “I really know how to pick them!”  
“The rest don’t matter. If _you_ want me I’m yours”. Harry sounds so sure that Nick can’t help but almost laugh again. It’s all so ridiculous. They’re best friends and Harry’s so young and Nick’s spent God knows how many months convincing himself that there’s no way he has feelings for Harry. But now they’re stood in Nick’s kitchen wrapped up in each other exactly how Nick’s pretended not to daydream about. And Harry’s telling Nick everything he’s pretended he hasn’t been dying to hear; on bloody Valentine’s Day!  
“You saying you wanna be my Valentine again next year Harry?”  
“Mhm. Every year. Maybe all the other days in between too”. Nick has to use all of his energy to stop himself dissolving into a face-splitting grin.  
“I’d really like that” he replies, before dipping his head to sweep Harry up into another passionate and long overdue kiss. He doesn’t even leave time for Harry to respond to his comment. But if the quirk of Harry’s lips under his own and the firm press of hands at the small of his back is anything to go by, Nick would wager that Harry’s as giddy at the prospect as he is.


End file.
